I Knew This Day Would Come
by Nina3
Summary: Future Fic. Max POV. Sequel to "For As Long As He Wants Me." More angsty rambles with a hopeful turn...


Title: I Knew This Day Would Come  
  
Author: Nina  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: None specifically.  
  
Synopsis: Set after my first piece, "For As Long As He Wants Me." More Max POV rambles.  
  
Disclaimer: I disclaim, I disclaim. I don't pretend to own Dark Angel or any of it's characters. They all belong to Fox, James Cameron, Charles Eglee, et all. I'm just borrowing them for a little while.  
  
AN: I didn't think there'd be a sequel to "FALAHWM," but I'd like to thank Fasel for opening my eyes and for helping me *see* one. I think there may be one more piece after this.  
  
AN 2: Special thanks (again) to Specks for beta-ing and just generally cheering me on :o)  
  
AN 3: Everyone who sent feedback to the last post, both here at FF.net and via email: Thank you!  
  
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Oh God!  
  
I knew this day would come.  
  
I knew one day it wouldn't be enough; my shattered heart and I wouldn't be enough for him anymore.  
  
I just foolishly kept hoping it wouldn't come for a while… Alright, a long while... I wanted to hold onto him for a little bit longer and hoard that love he gave so freely…  
  
So I kept hoping he wouldn't see the tears I cried… Wouldn't know they were for you.  
  
If he didn't know me so well, he probably wouldn't have. We might have gone on this way, with him loving me and me still loving you…  
  
"Max…"  
  
He's always been so expressive… The second my name crossed his lips, I knew I was in trouble.  
  
I only looked into his eyes for a second before my heart dropped and I had to look away. Already feeling my loss, I told him what I'd seen in those dark pools…  
  
"You're leaving me."  
  
I didn't mean for it to come out as a sob. I meant to be strong for him. I meant to stop being selfish long enough to let him go, but I couldn't even to that.  
  
Without any hesitation, he wrapped me in those big arms of his and let me cry on his shoulder. Just like so many other times… but this time, finally, the tears were for him.  
  
"Shh… Max, please don't cry. You know I have to go…"  
  
"No! You don't have to go. Please… please don't leave me." I whispered brokenly. "I love you…"  
  
Pulling away from me, he bent and wiped away the tears that were streaming down my cheeks.  
  
"No you don't. We both know you're still in love with him…"  
  
Shaking my head, I tried to deny the truth, "No, no. I do love you."  
  
"Maybe," he sighed, "but not the way you love him. And not the way I love you… I'll never have that part of you, Max. I thought for a long time that if I just gave you enough time, enough love, you'd be able to let him go. But I can't pretend anymore… and I can't stay now that I've accepted the truth. It's not fair to either of us."  
  
Sobbing too hard to say anything further, I just sat there on our bed as he started to pack up his stuff. Books from the shelf in the living room… his favorite movie from the DVD collection. Some cd's from the stereo in the kitchen… All his jeans, his business suits, the blue shirt I'd given him for his birthday last year. He only wore it twice before I claimed it as my own and started wearing it around the house; he said it looked better on me anyway. And he threw it into one of those boxes.  
  
Three big boxes. That's all it took. His entire life with me fit into three boxes.  
  
I watched numbly as he carried them out of house and to his truck, getting ready to disappear from my life.  
  
"Max."  
  
I was surprised; I hadn't expected him to come back after he loaded the last box. Looking up, I hoped that he was going to say he'd changed his mind… That he would stay…  
  
"You should go to Seattle."  
  
That was absolutely the last thing I expected to hear him say! I must've looked as shocked as I felt because he repeated himself and explained,  
  
"You should go to Seattle and find him. Tell him you're still his. See if there's a chance for you to be happy…"  
  
With that, he planted a kiss on my forehead and left before I could say another word.  
  
I couldn't stay in that house a minute longer, but instead of finding you, I found the nearest bar and started to drink…  
  
I don't remember when she sat down next to me, but before I knew it, I was having a conversation with a complete stranger, commiserating as only women do.  
  
We were sitting at the bar in what, on a good day, can only be called a dive, when she looked at me and decided to share some wisdom with me.  
  
Even now, when the rest of the night has faded into a haze, I remember it all so clearly…  
  
The pain in her eyes, the sad tone in her voice as she told me,  
  
"The things you regret the most in life aren't the things you did, they're the things you didn't do."  
  
I remember sitting there, for a long, quiet moment. Just taking it in… Mulling it over.  
  
Looking at her, this 'innocent' woman… with no real shame… no real skeletons in her walk-in closet… no blood on her hands.  
  
A woman who couldn't *possibly* know anything about regret.  
  
And I remember laughing at her.  
  
I can see the look on her face as I laughed. My heart lurches a little when I remember it... because I know that laughter must have hurt her deeply.  
  
I was such an idiot… An utterly self-involved idiot.  
  
She was trying to save me some pain, save me from repeating her mistakes, and all I could do was laugh.  
  
Because I *knew* all about regret.  
  
After all, I'd already had a lifetime of it.  
  
And I'd had *real* regret... Regret she couldn't even begin to imagine. The kind of regret that went hand in hand with guilt.  
  
The kind of regret that came from knowing that my 'family' was out in the world, alone… struggling to survive.  
  
The sort of regret that came from knowing that my brother was out there… slaughtering innocent people in the misguided hope of finding his own salvation.  
  
The regret that could only come from killing my own brother… not in self defense, but to spare him a fate worse than death.  
  
Regret that stemmed from being in love with a man I knew I couldn't ever touch again… because a virus would kill him if I did.  
  
Soul crushing regrets that have haunted me, that ate at me during the quiet moments.  
  
Regrets that I came to terms with, there in that dingy little bar, while pouring my heart out to a stranger.  
  
Because she helped me justify…  
  
She helped me look back and realize that I did what I had to do… That's all there ever was to it- I did what I had to do.  
  
It should have been liberating.  
  
The weight of the world lifting from my shoulders and all that…  
  
And after making peace with the ghosts from my past, you'd think I could have moved on- left the pain behind and embraced happiness…  
  
That's what should have happened.  
  
But it didn't…  
  
Instead, I started to regret all the what-ifs, the might-have-beens…. The things I didn't do.  
  
It's a long, sad list…  
  
I regret that I didn't tell you how much I loved you when I had the chance, that I didn't work harder to find a cure to the virus, that I didn't fight harder for us…  
  
I regret not staying in Seattle, not saying good-bye to anyone when I left…  
  
I regret not really moving on, not taking my heart with me when I ran…  
  
I regret not loving him the way he deserved…  
  
Not being honest with myself about how much pain I was causing him…  
  
Maybe most of all, I regret not taking his advice; not going back to Seattle, not telling you how much my heart still belongs to you…  
  
But I will…  
  
Someday soon… 


End file.
